


to a little kingdom

by rosyjaeh



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Angst, Blood and Violence, Desperation, Dubious Morality, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Morally Ambiguous Character, Non-Linear Narrative, Serial Killers, This is pretty heavy stuff, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator, i call it the sexy bloody renmin, mentions of cheating, they are so in love but its not easy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22772848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosyjaeh/pseuds/rosyjaeh
Summary: In the flitting shine of the streetlights, Renjun looks beautiful.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 92





	to a little kingdom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [taeilstummy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeilstummy/gifts).



> a gift for bobbaby my most dedicated cheerleader on this fic
> 
> was about time that this baby hits the ao3 theaters !!!!
> 
> i have been working on this for a long long time, it's mostly an assembly of little scenes that i wrote in speedwrites with my friends, so i wanna thank them for encouraging me to keep writing for this au and for anticipating the posting of it !!!
> 
> also PLEASE read the tags this is not light stuff
> 
> this isn't beta'ed because i have a narcissist problem. that's why. i read over it a few times and yes i know it's messy but that is kind of the point of this fic. when i tagged non-linear narrative and unreliable narrator i meant it
> 
> with all of this said here she is, my baby i hope you enjoy her

Renjun is the god of war.

Pale and sickly in the face, not much taller than the sunflowers in the backyard of Jaemin’s mother’s house, black hair falling into his face, unruly, much like the sky in his eyes. The leather of his jacket is warm under the tips of Jaemin’s fingers, giving, kissed by the sun.

He introduced him to his mother, back then. They sat down with her, for lunch, in the small kitchen Jaemin grew up in. Flowery curtains on the windows, the wall behind the stove painted a warm pink. There was a picture of baby Jaemin’s face on the wall, smiling with his mama, and Renjun should have seemed out of place. He fit right in, instead, stitched himself into the picture like he has with every aspect of Jaemin’s life.

That was when they measured him against the flowers, and they laughed into the hazy afternoon, backs hitting the juicy grass. The sun painted golden streaks onto Renjun’s face, and Jaemin was in love.

He was in love in that moment, when they laughed in the sun and Renjun was the most beautiful person Jaemin ever met, he still is, and he was in love later that night, sunken into the mattress of his childhood bed with Renjun curled into his arms like a cat, tucked into his warmth. He was in love later that year, when Renjun got on a plane to China and swore to never return, fire burning away the tears. Jaemin was still in love when he came back, not months later, soft apologies and a tear stained pillow.

Renjun is the god of war in Jaemin’s life, and he destroys everything he touches.

They are grown now, Jaemin hasn’t called his mother in a while, too ashamed of the things he would say, if she asked. How he is doing. What they are doing. If she could visit.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. She can’t.

She could never. Never see this place, hear the screams in the walls and see what they have done, in this place they share. There are no baby pictures, or flower curtains, or pink painted walls. There is blood on the living room floor, and the soapy water makes Renjun’s hands blister in the cold.

There is a splatter of red on the wall. Jaemin leans down to wash it away.

“We could just leave it like this.” A bead of sweat drops from Renjun’s brow, the tip of his nose, onto his lips. Jaemin would kiss it away, if he was closer. “It has a certain aesthetic, don’t you think?”

“Too bad it would stink up the place.” And the memories would be unbearable. They already creep into every corner of their home, every niche of Jaemin’s mind, making themselves comfortable. The screams in the walls stay with them no matter how far they run. “Unless your aesthetic includes a rat infestation in our bedroom.”

Renjun wrinkles his nose, rolls his shoulders free and picks his rag back up. “I wouldn’t mind a pet.”

He’s joking, and Jaemin snorts. “We can barely take care of ourselves.”

All evidence of their attempts at defending themselves, at keeping each other alive, it’s wiped up in the rag Renjun uses to scrub the floor. The brown water they pour down the drain that night is all the proof that they can survive, if they are desperate enough. It vanishes down the pipes as Jaemin winds his arms around Renjun from behind, a kiss to his spine. They are still here.

Renjun has yet to destroy Jaemin, but not for lack of attempt.

* * *

“You’re a monster.” A whisper of a shiver runs over his skin and Jaemin pulls him closer. Lips dance over his pulse point, under his jaw, forming words, sentences. “A monster. You killed someone because you wanted to.”

He wants to protest, wants to thrash and shove Renjun off, rid himself off the weight on his chest but secretly, he knows that it’s not Renjun, that he is not touching his chest spare for a finger tracing patterns into his skin in the rhythm of his words. Secretly, Jaemin knows that he is right.

“I didn’t want to.” It’s a fruitless attempt at defending himself, nearly lost in the whisper of traffic outside, in the golden rays of sun falling in through the dirty window. Renjun laughs like water pearling off the glass.

New York City is harsh in the winters, snow caging them in, cold perspiration freezing their windows shut. Their personal cell, pictures lining the walls not quite enough to take the edge off. Renjun has always hated being trapped, but his smile looks beautiful in the city lights. The mingle of people even in the cold grants them a sense of anonymity, streets so rotten with crime no one raises their head when they pass.

They are only staying for the winter, anyway.

Renjun’s skin burns against the tips of his fingers, warm from the sheet that rested against it, the heater off the edge of the bed. “You can keep telling yourself that, pretty boy.” He laughs again, like the bells of the bakery down the street, like the carols the children sing outside their window, sheets sliding off his shoulders when he rises. Skin so smooth it could be satin, golden expanse only disrupted by blossoming bruises on his collar bones, where no one but Jaemin will see. He smells like honeysuckles and despair.

He’s carried away, naked feet against the hardwood floor, and Jaemin doesn’t have it in him to follow him. There are no walls up here, space to let artists unfold themselves, the girl who used to live here left her canvasses leaned on the walls. Neither of them are artists, but the space lets Renjun breathe.

He watches him, the sway of his hips, dancing to a song only he can hear, lips moving around words Jaemin can’t discern, the smell of breakfast rising to the ceiling.

This home is only temporary, a stop on their way, nothing more than four walls just enough to keep them warm and comfortable as they wait for the cold months to pass. When spring comes and Renjun turns a year older, they will move on. Where to, they don’t know yet. That time will come.

To Jaemin, home will always be where Renjun is.

* * *

There is still a splatter of blood on the back of Renjun’s neck when Jaemin steps behind him, hands reaching for his hips. Their balcony is barely big enough for one person, they stand pressed together, arms wound around their hugging figures, railing digging into Renjun’s hip. Jaemin slides his hand down to prevent it from leaving a bruise. The air smells like cigarette smoke and Renjun’s favorite brand of whiskey.

“I missed you today.” Jaemin’s words carry in the cold air of the night, too still to be disrupted.

Renjun’s lips stretch into a smile against Jaemin’s cheek. His hands burn away Jaemin’s skin, but he lets him. “I had something to take care of. Trust me, it was nothing exciting.”

“You just didn’t want me there.” It’s an accusation, almost, but there is no bite. Renjun’s laugh tugs up the corners of Jaemin’s mouth, buried in the junction of his neck.

“Why would I want you there?” He turns around in Jaemin’s arms, at last, arms up to wrap around Jaemin’s neck, bodies pressed so close Jaemin can feel the soft pounding of Renjun’s heart against his chest. Sometimes, the only reassurance that they are alive. That he is still here with him. “I wouldn’t want to risk your life.”

“If it’s that much of a risk, I should be with you.” He doesn’t hold back the frown, this time, if only because he knows that Renjun will lean up to kiss it away. He’s not disappointed.

“Big stupid boy,” Renjun murmurs against his lips, mouth so warm Jaemin melts into it. “Stop puffing yourself up, you know I don’t need you protect me.” His hands slide up to Jaemin’s face, still, pulls him impossibly closer, mouths molding into one, holding onto him as if he indeed needs him. Maybe he does, maybe he needs him in every way except for the one Jaemin wants to provide, the one Jaemin wants him to need him.

“I know.” His words wash down Renjun’s throat. He grips Renjun’s hips tighter, presses him closer, seeking the warmth he radiates. “I just wish you would let me.” _I don’t want to lose you_ , is what he doesn’t say, but Renjun looks up at him, with eyes so warm Jaemin thinks he heard him anyway.

“We should go inside, it’s getting cold.” Renjun detaches himself. There’s not enough room out here to bring more than a few centimeters of distance between their chests, but Jaemin gets the message.

Renjun’s hand is small and warm in his. Jaemin clings onto it.

It’s not until later, freshly showered, the smell of burnt wood in the air, buried between their sheets that Renjun slides up to Jaemin again, arms reaching out, one leg tucked between Jaemin’s thighs. His hand grips the fabric of Jaemin’s shirt. “I love you.” Three words, vibrations painted against Jaemin’s neck, where they belong. A small hands slips over his heart. “You know that, right? I love you so much. More than life itself.”

A brush of noses, a warm hand on his chest, the other playing with the hair at his nape, eyes so big and warm, and Jaemin has a hard time not believing. Soft mouth of a cat trying to convince its owner of its innocence.

Renjun has always been dangerous for him, because Jaemin is selfish, and weak.

“I love you, too.” He means it, even if his heart aches. He doesn’t doubt Renjun’s words, just the intention behind them. They pierce through his heart, they are true, they are meant to hurt him because Jaemin questioned him, questioned his authority, his strength. Renjun is a mere soldier, protecting his dignity. He reminds Jaemin that he loves him so Jaemin remembers that he loves him back. That if he really loves him, there is nothing to fear. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You can take care of yourself.”

A soft sigh hits his neck. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s cute that you want to protect me.” His lips paint a smile on Jaemin’s skin. “I like it, actually. I still don’t want you to do it, but it’s a cute thought. I feel the same way about you, of course. I don’t want you to be in danger, that’s how it’s supposed to be. I’m sorry I acted like that."

That’s how it’s supposed to be. Sometimes, Jaemin can’t tell what game Renjun is playing.

* * *

Red water washes down the drain, paints the white marmor a scandalous color. Renjun’s breathing goes harder than it needs to, his hands shake. He’s frantic, scrubbing the crusted blood off his palms.

“Baby.” Jaemin is at his side in one, two long steps, warm hands on his back, on his arms, anything to calm him down even for just a second. Renjun never acts like this, has never been scared of the blood on his hands. His breath fogs up the mirror. “Babe. Renjun. Calm down. You’re safe. You’re here, with me, it’s okay.”

It takes a minute, Jaemin’s breath in his ear, hands on him, swaddled in warmth, for Renjun’s breath to even out, for him to tilt his body back into on Jaemin’s embrace, head his shoulder, whispered words of thanks.

Jaemin doesn’t ask, just stays still, knees hitting the tiles when Renjun slips down, pulls them both to the ground. Their bathroom is cold, the heater is out, but Renjun rests warm into the dip of his chest.

Arms wound around each other, always close enough to comfort, they stay. Renjun kneels between his thighs, back against his chest. Jaemin trails kisses along his cheek, and Renjun smiles into the silence.

He doesn’t ask, just waits till Renjun slides down his hand, fingers coming to tangle with Jaemin’s, holding onto him, clinging. His lifeline. He talks without being asked to.

* * *

A summer afternoon, behind the high school gym, skipping class, sweating in his uniform blazer. The taste of smoke, of something forbidden on his lips, the first time he met Renjun. He wasn’t wearing his blazer, collarbones peeking out over the undone button of his shirt, pants a size too big. A crumpled yellow detention slip in his pocket, and he didn’t seem to care.

“What are you doing out here, pretty boy?” Smoke breached his lips when he spoke. “Trying to be one of the bad kids, now? Make daddy angry because he didn’t get you the car you wanted?”

Jaemin didn’t correct him, not until months later. Didn’t tell him that he hadn’t seen his daddy since he and his mother had run away. Renjun would find out for himself. He stood, stared, until Renjun stopped talking, moved toward him. Until he was caged against the wall, a cigarette in his own hand.

There was that light in Renjun’s eyes, back then too, when he looked up at Jaemin and decided that they were the future. When they walked home that day even though Jaemin’s house was too far away and he usually took the bus, when Renjun’s elbow knocked into his as they walked.

Renjun scratched at the surface, months of fingernails in skin, he bit and they bled. He chewed and spat Jaemin back out, stomped him into the concrete like gum, anything to break him. He didn’t succeed, Jaemin never caved, but the game was too enticing. Push and pull, a shove against the wall, edge of the kitchen counter digging into skin, chests touching, teeth clacking. Blood on their hands, on their lips.

High school Jaemin would shiver in his ironed pants, at what he had become. An all devouring monster, a killer, teeth tugging at the skin of Renjun’s thigh. Sweat in the bedroom air.

They fell in love behind the high school gym, sharing a cigarette, and it has chased them across the world.

* * *

They leave New York a month earlier than they planned to, escape the pull of people and the lights. Renjun laughs when Jaemin chases him down the sidewalk, to their car, and no one looks when they kiss, eyes closed.

The city was good for them, gave them the freedom they needed, but the neighbors started to look sooner than they expected them to, started to ask what they did up there, how they got the apartment. Questions they weren’t prepared to answer, so they grabbed their things and ran. They never stop running.

In the flitting shine of the streetlights, Renjun looks beautiful.

A song on the radio, some nonsense that Jaemin’s head does a good job at blocking out with, but Renjun hums along to it, curled up on the passenger seat, fingers dancing down Jaemin’s wrist, tapping a beat.

Towns pass by the windows, towns and streetlights, other cars, trees and people, and none of it really matters. What does matter is Renjun, knees jammed under his chin, eyes slipping closed, lips moving around silent words. A hum in his chest. A drop of dried blood on his temple, just because.

Jaemin barely remembers last night. Blood on his fingers, blood on his face, on Renjun’s face, bile in his throat, and his nose buried in Renjun’s hair. “I’m so sorry.”

He remembers waking up on the floor of the apartment, freezing cold body against the tiles, chest still caved where Renjun’s head rested the night before, seeing Renjun pack his bags. He remembers slamming him into the kitchen counter, soothing hands on his back. Lips against his cheek, whispered apologies.

They didn’t mean it. They never do.

It’s all part of a routine, this game they play. Push and pull, find each other’s buttons and press, press into skin, dig their fingers in until it hurts, until one of them snaps. It’s maddening, it’s addicting, it hurts and it’s all Jaemin ever wanted. The bruises on his ribs remind him of why he loves Renjun.

They find a town in the outskirts of Cincinnati, after days on the road, stopping only for food and to sleep in the motels along the highway. Trees line the streets, dotted between them red mailboxes and white picket fences. A lady in the neighborhood waves at them when she sees them carry their bags inside, and someone else brings them a pie. There’s a church in town, and Renjun goes just for the fun of it. The pearls of a rosary glide through his fingers when he comes home, and Jaemin ties it around his wrists that night.

The house is tiny, barely stands up right. They laugh when Renjun’s foot goes straight through the drywall. So hard they forget why they were fighting, foreheads knocking. Easy.

It’s alright, Jaemin tells his mother on the phone at night. They are alright, he thinks. Another hole in the wall, from where Renjun threw the pie dish at it, but they made up, pressed into the mattress, smoking on the porch. There are no cars out here, and someone scowls when Renjun leans his head on Jaemin.

They burn the bible flyer the find in the mail the next day.

* * *

Under the dark blue, Jaemin holds his breath.

His hands hurt, black trickling down his arms and he can’t look at himself in the mirror. It hurts. When Renjun laughs, body drowning in the mass of blankets on the bed behind him. The room is too small and Renjun is too far away.

“We shouldn’t have come here.” Renjun tilts his head to the side when Jaemin speaks, bop of soft hair. Even in the sharp white light, he looks like a god.

A god, Jaemin’s personal curse. Their bodies lie bruised, the fifth motel room in a week, the smell of blood in the air and their knuckles sore. Jaemin stares at the clothes in the suitcase on the floor, the car keys on the nightstand. None of it is theirs, and Renjun only smiles.

They turn their phones off when they run, leave wrong names at the front desk. Renjun smiles into Jaemin’s skin at night, nose digging into flesh, sharp canines bared. They shouldn’t be here.

Too many cities lie wrecked in their wake, too many places they have torn up and left. The bodies in the walls won’t stop talking, and all Jaemin knows is how to make Renjun stop crying.

He cries when he laughs, laughs when he’s in pain. They’re always in pain, hands twisted together.

The mattress is cold against Jaemin’s back, Renjun burns through his chest. The stars are twinkling outside the window, clouds cleared for the first time in days. Winking, as if wanting to say, _We know what you did. Motherfuckers._

“You don’t need to be scared.” Renjun brushes a hand down Jaemin’s cheek. More tears fall from his eyes when he smiles, and Jaemin kisses them away. “We’re safe here.”

No place in the world will ever be safe again for them, too much past. Jaemin tries to forget.

Seoul was rough, New York was good for Renjun, but the city lights threatened to expose them. The suburbs threatened to suffocate them both.

Jaemin would carry Renjun to the ends of the world if that’d mean he’d stop crying.

Maybe Renjun is his curse, but they are a curse to the world together. They have done too much to separate now. Even if it means that Jaemin bathes his hands in blood and Renjun stares at him as they race down the highways. Hands intertwined over the gear stick.

Even if their kisses taste like salt.

Renjun is a curse that rips the skin off Jaemin’s bones, leaves him open and bleeding. Chews him up, spits him back out, broken and bruised on the sidewalk.

Jaemin can’t live without him.

* * *

The softness of the mattress, soft embrace, warmth between their sheets. Renjun looks so much more peaceful in his sleep.

His lashes fan out on his cheeks, gentle touch of black on gold, and dreams wash out the worry lines. The only times Jaemin gets to watch him like this, the streetlight outside casting yellow light on the bedroom floor, on the twist of their blanket.

He kisses the pink swell of Renjun’s lips when a sigh escapes them.

They stumble home in the dead of the night, hands slick with alcohol and blood and Jaemin doesn’t know whose it is, his, Renjun’s, someone else’s. Some asshole they met at the bar, and now they’re both red.

Renjun never makes it past the kitchen, no matter where they are. New York or Seoul, his head falls against Jaemin’s shoulder, breath of whiskey, lip split, or burnt, or bruised with kisses and fists.

The cut on his head is healing, Jaemin presses a kiss on it when he drops him on the mattress.

In the daylight, Renjun never looks this kind. Cheeks soft, lips rosy, the droop of his lids. The blood on his nose makes him look all the more appealing like this. Only in the dim in here, in the dip of their mattress, fitting around his body like it was molded for them, does Jaemin get to see his walls fall.

There’s no frowning, no evil words. In here, Jaemin kisses down Renjun’s wounds, in here, Renjun looks like a lover, not a soldier. The living room is their war zone, outside, Renjun raises hell. In here, they make peace.

In here, Renjun’s hand rests on Jaemin’s chest, brush of hair against his jaw when Renjun presses his face into his shoulder, another sigh.

They make a bedroom wherever they go, a private space. To share dreams.

Not even Renjun can keep the walls up forever.

* * *

The roads lead them across the American countryside, up to Canada, down to Mexico, from a studio apartment in New York City to sleeping in their car in San Francisco.

On a summer afternoon in Oregon, with their cheeks burned red and sweat sticking their skin to the leather seats, Jaemin teaches Renjun how to drive. An open corn field and Renjun’s laughter in the gold.

In the winter, in Dallas, they quit smoking. Lose their apartment when Renjun throws pans against the walls.

They drive, Jaemin’s hands around the steering wheel, around Renjun’s thigh. It’s always the same story, the same beginning, it goes like this: two lovers, two boys running away from the world, hand in hand. They throw their clothes into the trunk of a car they stole, drive down the open road until no one can find them anymore.

Their story will never end, it goes on forever. You see a boy with choppy hair and a cigarette at a bus stop and think _Scum_ , but that’s just who he is. Maybe he’s running too. Aren’t we all?

Thoughts are easy, you can think whatever you want. The girl in your literature class will never know that you think she’s ugly if you don’t tell anyone, the boy by the bus station will never know that you called him scum in your head. You can look at people and you can think, but you can never speak.

Renjun’s skin is warm against Jaemin’s hands, a puddle of sweat on the backseat, steamy windows.

They stop at gas stations to buy popsicles, sticky red juice running down the side of Renjun’s face, a kiss that tastes too much like artificial strawberry. Renjun’s silhouette in the flitting shine of the streetlights, face glowing in the afternoon sun, running through the lush grass.

Jaemin can think about going home, about seeing Seoul again, but he can never say it out loud.

Korea is a faraway dream, across the ocean, across the bridges they burned years ago. His mother hasn’t called him in so long, he still has her number on his phone. He never calls her, either.

There is a girl in the bar across from you and you think she’s pretty, short hair and eyes like jewels. She smiles at you but you don’t tell her that she’s pretty, because you’re a liar and you tell yourself that you’d rather go home alone, or with a girl who likes herself less than this girl does.

Jaemin likes himself less than this girl does. He still goes home with Renjun, and kisses his tears away.

* * *

A hand curled into the sheets, stuffy air in the motel room. Fog on the windows and the bathroom mirror, steamed up from the sweaty air.

Through the shutter of Jaemin’s camera, Renjun looks like a star.

They take pictures wherever they go, every place they find. Pictures of Renjun in New York, face illuminated by the city lights, green on his cheek, blue in his eyes. Hair bleached blond in front of a California backdrop. His smile on the passenger seat of the car, a hand stretched out the window.

Wrist sunken into the pillow, rope mark and a bite on his clavicle. He looks beautiful in every picture Jaemin takes of him.

They are struggling, actors trapped in a movie. Too much sex, too little love. Renjun kisses him with intent, he’s on a mission. No matter from what angle you look at it, Renjun will never belong to Jaemin. Not in the way he’d like. Not in the way Renjun would maybe like. Maybe.

Renjun paints, Jaemin takes pictures. Renjun paints a string of kisses down Jaemin’s chest, down his thighs, Jaemin tries to remember him in every detail. They are artists in their own ways.

There is a shower scene in this movie, droplets of water down Renjun’s back when Jaemin holds him against the glass. Breathy moans fog up the glass, and Jaemin wants to hold the camera closer. Capture Renjun’s face as it contorts, pleasure coloring his cheeks red, lower lip bit open. Angle the camera down, Renjun’s hips, swallowed down by Jaemin’s hand, littered in kisses from when Jaemin sucked his dick leaned against the bathroom door.

Jaemin has always hated shower scenes. But Renjun, bare skin and water running down his thighs, might just change his mind. Might just be enough for Jaemin to fall.

The pictures in Jaemin’s camera tell a love story, one he can’t trace back in his own memory. When did he fall in love? When did Renjun stop being a ghost between his sheets, when did this stop being about sex? Jaemin can still remember when it was all about sex. He can’t remember when that changed.

Now Jaemin takes a picture of Renjun pressed into his mattress, now they are intertwined.

Renjun sits on the edge of the bed after sex, smokes on the balcony. He stays, sinks into the pillow next to Jaemin’s head and sleeps. Jaemin tucks a piece of ink black hair behind his ear.

Life is all about forgetting the things that bring you pain.

Jaemin wants to remember Renjun.

* * *

Renjun spread himself everywhere, from the moment Jaemin met him.

When they were kids, stupid teenagers messing around after school without their parents knowing, getting high on each other, he was everywhere. Jaemin still has the images, stamped into the back of his lids. Renjun in his bed, Renjun in his kitchen, in his bathroom, a second toothbrush resting next to his own.

Today, even in their own space, he spreads out, fills every corner of the apartment. There are no photos of them here, no cute little notes. The smell of his favorite brand of whiskey, Renjun on the couch.

Jaemin got used to it, the crumpled sheets and the empty bowl on the kitchen counter. He treads through the living room with care, he rests his head on Renjun’s at night. He cleans the messes Renjun leaves behind silently, scrubs the blood off the floor, off the counter, off his hands.

Their personal war zone, filled to the brim with personal belongings and feelings and the smell of them.

Renjun turns their living room floor into a battlefield, he digs his fingers under Jaemin’s ribs, he tears him apart, picks at him slowly until he falls open. A war of attrition.

There’s clothes thrown over the tiles in the bathroom, a speck of blood on the wall. Their lips crash together so hard it hurts.

The empty bowl falls, bursts, Jaemin’s back against the counter. Renjun screams, the two hearts in Jaemin’s chest roar, they scratch and bite. Renjun’s lips burn against his cheek, _I’m sorry._

Bruises on their necks and chests, almost scandalous. Jaemin’s lip bursts where Renjun bites down on it.

He holds him closer to his chest that night, holds him until their bodies bleed together, until Renjun has consumed all of him, spreads himself over every inch of Jaemin’s body, too.

This place is only temporary, the world is temporary. As long as Renjun is here, the flames can’t reach them.

* * *

They meet a boy called Donghyuck on a beach in California, a boy with golden skin and the sun in his eyes, in his smile, in the way the sand sticks to his naked legs.

Maybe Renjun sleeps with him, Jaemin doesn’t care about the heat under his skin anymore, but Donghyuck drags a boy along with him, black hair and puppy eyes that crinkle up when he smiles. His name is Jeno and the four of them spend night after night at the beach. Donghyuck teaches Renjun how to make a fire.

Renjun looks good in the fire light, he smells like salt water and California air, and Jaemin kisses him extra hard when Donghyuck is watching, sunny eyes burning holes into Jaemin’s side.

Jaemin has never been possessive, he lets Renjun do what he wants. There is no way to contain him, Jaemin would be foolish to think he could bind him to himself. He still holds him closer on that beach in California, presses him into the mattress at night, purple bruises on their necks. Bite to claim.

Donghyuck doesn’t touch Renjun anymore.

“Never seen this side of you.” Teeth graze Jaemin’s lips when Renjun speaks into their kiss, a big grin. They’re standing too close, one silhouette in front of the horizon. “My big jealous puppy.”

Renjun calls Jaemin a stupid boy, he always does. He calls him big, calls him stupid, calls him ridiculous and laughs at the things he says, but he kisses his face until Jaemin can’t breathe. Their bodies are a tangle in the sand, too far from Donghyuck and Jeno. Jaemin’s lungs wouldn’t be better off at the bottom of the ocean.

They know people stare when they come back, they always have, they always will. Back home, in New York, in California, the stares follow. There’s blood on their hands, a sin on their lips.

The lady next door knocks on their door when Renjun fucks Jaemin so hard he screams, bites into his skin, and Jaemin laughs into Renjun’s mouth. They don’t stop at her angry voice, the headboard hits the wall and Jaemin hooks his leg around Renjun’s waist. Senses on overdrive, Renjun’s bony hips against his ass, spread open, Renjun’s lips taste like sweat and sticky candy.

Things like this, like Renjun’s skin under the California sun, like liquor in the back of your throat, they burn in the best ways. Renjun bends him in half, thigh against his chest, and Jaemin twists his hand into the sheets.

Donghyuck eyes them when they leave their room the next morning, a hand on Jeno’s thigh. He likes Renjun, keeps an eye on him when he thinks Jaemin isn’t looking. Jaemin is always looking for Renjun.

He doesn’t really care, though, when he sees them in the back of a club together, Renjun on Donghyuck’s lap, lips attached. Not when Renjun smiles at him over Donghyuck’s shoulder, makes sure to suck a big mark into the side of his neck and leave him there.

Not when he lets Jaemin fuck him on the bathroom sick of their room.

California clubs are full of people like that, looking for the drama, the forbidden. Everyone here wants to be a little bit of a celebrity, at least at night, and sometimes that entails stealing other people’s boyfriends. Alcohol in your veins, too many drugs you’re not allowed to taste. The sin of touching a boy who’s attached to someone else, of making him yours. Renjun has never liked being a toy.

Jaemin still asks. “What was that tonight?” He knows the answer, but he also knows Renjun. He wants him to ask, just to play it safe. Wants to make sure they’re on the same page, but he’d never admit it.

Renjun looks vulnerable like this, softer. Thighs falling open for Jaemin, clinging to the bathroom shelf. Jaemin’s hand around the column of his throat, thumb pressed against his jaw to keep their eyes aligned. He loves this, he loves falling apart, loves letting go, but Jaemin still has to do it for him. Dig his fingers into Renjun’s skin and pull, tear him open until he gives in.

It feels better than falling open all on his own, he’d rather put up a fight.

“I thought he could use a lesson.” Open mouth, a moan escapes him when Jaemin presses deeper. A small triumph, Renjun clenches his teeth when Jaemin grins at him. “About touching what isn’t yours. Let’s see what his boy says when he comes home like that.”

 _What isn’t yours._ Renjun doesn’t belong to anyone, but he still lets Jaemin touch him. He falls open under his hands, pearl of sweat on his temple and his calf hooked over Jaemin’s shoulder.

“So you’re mine, then?”

Renjun’s eyes are blown wide, cheeks shot red, lips falling open. A whimper that drives Jaemin up the wall, because it leaves his throat before he can stop it. Renjun is so beautiful like this, when Jaemin grips his hips and fucks him harder, prods him open more with every thrust.

He grips his jaw harder, nevermind his own shaking fingers, thumb digging into his cheek. “Aren’t you gonna answer me? Have you lost your voice?”

There is something about having Renjun like this, so different from the boy on the passenger seat. The bite is still there, Jaemin can always see the fight in his eyes. He wants to argue, snap back, tell Jaemin he’s wrong, he doesn’t belong to anyone. But there’s something else, the redness of his face, the way he falls open. His finger wound tight around Jaemin’s upper arm, the soft moan pressing through his lips.

They kiss so hard their teeth knock, biting into each other’s mouths. Everything tastes like sweat and the scent of Renjun’s skin. Jaemin can’t get enough, he’s hooked on him, a dangerous drug. Lips that beg to be eaten up, and Jaemin kisses him until Renjun’s head hits the mirror, until there’s no more room.

Renjun’s fingers dig into the back of his neck when they come up for air.

No space between them, Renjun’s leg bent back so far it should hurt, but his face stays level. He’s breathless, eyes raking down Jaemin’s face.

He lets his mouth fall open on purpose, this time when Jaemin presses into him, moans high in his throat when Jaemin hits his sweet spot dead on, years of practice.

“I’m yours.”

* * *

Renjun’s bones shift under his skin, muscles pulling taut, and Jaemin lets his fingers spider down his back.

Voices whisper in the walls, outside the door, down the hallway, but Jaemin isn’t bothered as much. He pulls Renjun closer, listens to the pulse in his lips. He drowns in it.

Here, in this tiny little motel room in the middle of fuck-knows-where, they are offered at least a bit of peace. A small amount of time for themselves, with no one here to disrupt them as they dance, Renjun’s arms wound around Jaemin’s neck so tightly, a taint of whiskey in his breath, lips sweet like candy. The voices outside their room don’t know them, don’t care about them. About the blood on their hands, or the stolen car in the parking lot.

Or the gun Jaemin keeps under his pillow.

“I love you.” Renjun’s lips paint the words against the side of Jaemin’s neck, and he smiles.

There is no say about what their future holds yet. Two lost souls, wandering, fingers ever connected even if they stray away from each other, even when Jaemin gets lost in a stranger’s mouth for a night or when Renjun screams and throws his phone across the room and returns the next morning with a black eye.

They always regret it. Jaemin has never found a stranger whose lips mold into him as perfectly, and Renjun finds fighting with Jaemin much more satisfactory than with anyone else.

That’s what keeps them here. Jaemin digs his feet into the ground and pulls Renjun closer.

“I love you so much.” Against his jaw this time. It tickles.

Jaemin doesn’t say it back, but Renjun knows. Hands on his hips, holding tight, lips molded together in a quiet play. Push and pull. Fingers under his shirt.

At the end of the day, they are here, together, and no one dares to bother them

At the end of the day, Jaemin knows that no matter what’s to come. This is his future.

**Author's Note:**

> i promise im nice :(  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/rosyjaeh)  
> [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/rosyjaem)


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